


The Once and Future King

by Nyxelestia



Series: Virtues, Chicken, and Destiny [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s04e12-13 The Sword in the Stone, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Gen, Insecurity, Minor Character Death, Other, Platonic Love, Platonic Relationships, Post-Magic Reveal, Season 4 AU, Season 4 Rewrite, The Sword in the Stone, Violence, disguises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxelestia/pseuds/Nyxelestia
Summary: (Hope)Morgana has finally made the move they've all been dreading: invading Camelot, with Agravaine leading the charge. Arthur and Merlin are ousted, half his knights are locked up by his sister, and the rest are scattered among his missing people. Running into the frankincense smugglers he'd spent the last year looked for is just cosmic mockery of his failure as a king. Guinevere waits in Ealdor, danger closing in whilst Arthur and Merlin have a lot to explain.And Arthur finally gets to see that stupid rock in the forest everyone's been nattering on about. What idiot thought sticking a sword in a stone was a good idea?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm baaaaaa _aaaaaaa_ ack! :D

Arthur scowled at his belt as he finally gave up on trying to wrap it around his waist.

“This is your fault,” Arthur grumbled as he handed the belt to Merlin.

“How is it my fault?” Merlin objected, Arthur’s favorite belt hanging limply in his distracted grip.

“You must have shrunken it somehow,” Arthur said. “I _knew_ you were as incompetent with magic as you are with everything else.”

“Right,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes and lifting the belt until he was holding it right in front of his eyes. “And it has nothing to do with how you’ve been gorging yourself on sweetmeats for the last few months.”

“It was either that or wine.”

Merlin snorted, then turned his attention to the belt. He muttered under his breath, his lips moving with deliberation as his gaze seemed to slacken, without ever actually straying from the belt.

His eyes filled with gold, and a moment later, a hole started to bloom in the fine leather of the belt, growing until it was the same size as all the others.

The gold faded from his eyes as he handed back the belt. “See?”

“It doesn’t count if you’re the one who messed it up in the first place,” Arthur grumbled. He didn’t bother to hide how impressed he was, though, and Merlin grinned. As Arthur wrapped it around himself, he added, “Not a word of this to anyone!”

Merlin nodded. “Of course. If it’s one thing I’m good at, it’s keeping secrets.”

Arthur paused in his movements.

“…too soon?”

Arthur nodded, and Merlin sighed.

“You know-”

“I know,” Arthur said, shaking his head. Merlin grabbed Arthur’s cloak and started helping him into it. “But not tonight. This Beltaine isn’t _just_ Beltaine. We’ve fixed the dams in the river, the new roads are complete, and everyone’s convinced the new treaty with Nemeth with enrich us all. Tonight’s a night to celebrate…”

“To raise everyone’s morale,” Merlin said, clasping the cloak. He ran his hands over Arthur’s shoulders, straightening them out. With a smile, he said, “It’s a good idea.”

“Of course it’s a good idea,” Arthur sniffed, sheathing his sword and heading to the door. “It’s _my_ idea!”

Merlin laughed, a sound Arthur hadn’t heard in weeks.

Hiding a smile from his manservant, Arthur made his way to the feast. Tonight was going to be a good night – he could feel it.

~*~

Arthur didn’t know whether or not it was a good thing or a bad one, when Merlin brought the herb-crusted capon over with a gentle chide of, “Careful, now – wouldn’t want another hole in that belt, now, would we?”

Beside him, Percy choked on his wine, and Elyan thumped his back even while snickering into the man’s shoulder. On Arthur’s other side, Leon’s face was very pointedly blank as his eyes crinkled in badly-hidden amusement, while Gwaine didn’t bother trying to hide his laughter at all. Even the noblemen were gently snickering, instead of faking scandal at anyone taking humor at the king’s expense.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and reached for the capon. “So I guess this means I just have to run us through some more drills. Perhaps tomorrow morning, at dawn?”

The knights groaned in unison, and even the nobles started laughing in earnest. Still, it was all good-natured. Gwaine and Leon were talking again, while Elyan was encouraging Percival to go talk to a young Lady down the table.

They all smiled at Merlin when he came with weak mead to pour into their goblets. Even Gwaine, who’d looked forlorn when Merlin had shooed away a wine-maid, but took the replacement drink nonetheless. He knew full-well they were all forgoing wine for his sake.

It was a good night. This Beltaine feast was not to celebrate any massive accomplishments, but little ones, the important ones that kept the kingdom thriving. The knights were speaking again, Merlin was being more honest – obnoxiously so, since the belt jokes were still going – and even the noble advisors were, for once, relaxing and enjoying themselves.

There was only one thing missing – and that the night was so close to perfect just made Guinevere’s absence all the starker.

She would’ve loved a night like this. Arthur could just imagine her making her rounds through the banquet, barely eating her own meal for making sure everyone else enjoyed theirs. She would talk to the servants and the nobles equally, maybe even share an easy dance or two with her brother. Her skin would glow in the cheerful flames, and on a night like this, Arthur would even happily embarrass himself by sharing a dance with her, too.

Arthur could almost swear he heard her and Merlin’s conspiring giggles just beyond the edge of his hearing – but when he turned around, it was only Merlin, alone.

“Sire?”

Oh.

It would seem he’d been imagining Guinevere for quite a while. Leon had joined some other knights across the banquet hall, laughing at something that was probably too rude for company so polite. Elyan was dancing with Sir Borson’s wife, Lady Enide, while the old knight himself appeared to be telling a story to the newly-recruited knights, while Gwaine appeared to be either augmenting or arguing the story. Percival was finally talking to the girl he was sweet on, and that left Arthur and Merlin alone.

Well – even if it was to an annoying degree, Merlin seemed to be trying for honesty. Maybe Arthur could do the same.

“Guinevere,” Arthur said. Merlin’s face softened in understanding. “I keep expecting to see her…but every time I turn around, she’s gone.”

“She’s not gone,” Merlin said. “She’s just…not _here_.”

Arthur huffed. “And yet…”

Merlin slowly smiled.

“I had to get used to it, once,” Merlin said. Arthur looked at him in askance. “We used to gossip during feasts when attending you and…you and Morgana.” He swallowed past the painful name. “And when she became castellan, then bordered on noble-woman, and started _sitting_ at these things…” Merlin gestured around himself, including with the nearly-empty juice mug he set down by Arthur. “It took a while. I kept expecting to see her by my side, and being surprised when I would see her in front of me.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You two _still_ gossip,” he pointed out.

Merlin shrugged. “We – she was still Gwen. So her circumstances changed, her station changed – she was still the same person. _She_ didn’t change.”

Arthur knew damn well what Merlin was getting at. Before he could say anything, though, there was a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to see a worried-looking Leon by his side, the other three of Arthur’s favored knights right behind him. Their placid faces did a half-decent job of hiding Leon’s worry, Percival’s anxiety, Elyan’s concern – and Gwaine’s attention on something outside the windows.

Arthur saw smoke, and turned to his knights. “What-”

“We just got word,” Leon said. “Looks like some drunkard dropped a torch, started a fire that spread.”

Arthur frowned. “Do I-”

“No,” Leon said. “We’ll go deal with it, sire.

“Oi,” Gwaine challenged, mostly playful. Mostly. “This _is_ my night for handling domestic disturbances!”

“We just wanted to let you know,” Elyan continued. “What we were doing.”

Arthur was about to go join them – until he saw a strange look from Percival.

Hoping Arthur was reading the man’s cues right, he slowly nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “If it’s really just a torch-fire, it shouldn’t take too long. Keep everyone calm, and let me know how it’s proceeding.”

Elyan, Gwaine, and Leon – and Merlin, behind them all – were clearly surprised. Percival, however, looked relieved.

The three knights went off, and Arthur gestured for Percival to lean in. Merlin, of course, followed suit, with no input from Arthur.

The opposite of what he’d been doing for the last few weeks, and exactly like he’d always done. Merlin’s disobedience was a relief in its own right – and annoying relief, but still a relief.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Percival smiled gently.

“They need to get use to relying on each other again,” Percival said. “A small problem like this seems like a good place to start.”

Blinking in surprise, Arthur smiled as he realized what Percival had just done.

“Why, Sir Percival,” Arthur said, smile spreading across his cheeks. “Who knew you could be so sly.”

Percival winked. “Don’t let anyone on, sire!”

Arthur laughed, as Percival went back towards the girl waiting by the dance tiles for him. This was one secret he’d be happy to keep.

For a few moments, Arthur watched Percival and the young lady awkwardly dancing, then turned to Merlin. “How do you feel about seeing your mother?”

Clearly caught off guard, Merlin blinked and asked, “My mother?”

“Maybe you could go to Ealdor,” Arthur said, keeping his voice neutral as he scanned the crowd for Agravaine. Where had his blasted uncle gone off to? The man wouldn’t deal with a simple fire, himself… “To see your mother.” He gave Merlin a pointed horse. “Maybe even take an extra horse with you.”

Merlin’s eyes lit up as Arthur’s implications sunk in.

“Of course, sire,” Merlin said with a badly-hidden grin. “I would love to.”

Of course he’d love to go see his mother and come back with Guinevere – he needed someone to gossip with at banquets, again.

“You should bring your mother a gift,” Arthur said. “Maybe-”

“ _SIIIRE!_ ”

The entire banquet hall quieted at Gwaine’s approaching bellow. Arthur stood, his chair scraping back as the doors slammed open.

Without a word, the look on Gwaine’s face made Arthur’s blood freeze, even before he said, “We’re under attack!”

Arthur wanted to be shocked, he really did.

But given how his luck went, he just sighed and grumbled, “Of course we are. From who?”

Gwaine looked like he wanted to cry. “The invaders they…they…” Gwaine swallowed. “They’re being led by Agravaine.”

Arthur…frowned.

“Sire?”

He turned to see Lord Dunham looking between Gwaine, Arthur, and the windows through which they could still see smoke in the distance – and even now, still only smoke.

“Yes?” Arthur said.

“...this betrayal,” Dunham said. “You don’t seem surprised.”

For a moment, Arthur considered pretending otherwise.

Only a moment.

“We’ve been watching him quite some time,” Arthur said. Gwaine looked shocked at Arthur’s honesty, which broke his heart.

Little to be done for it, now.

“He’s in collusion with my sister,” Arthur said. Half the faces in the hall were filled with pure disbelief, the other half a mix of shock and horror – at the treachery, or of Arthur’s continued use of the sororal title? “We’d been hoping for him to lead us to Morgana.”

“But he’s here,” Sir Borson said, the old knight looking at Gwaine with wide-eyes begging otherwise. “And if he’s publicly betraying you like this, sire…”

Arthur swallowed, as the implication sunk in.

Slowly, deliberately, with muscles coiled tight in burgeoning rage, Arthur reached up to his neck and unclasped his cloak, letting it drop onto his chair as he stood in his chainmail, his ceremonial sword-belt doing nothing to change the lethal weapon it held at his side.

“Instead of leading us to Morgana,” Arthur ground out. “It appears my uncle has led Morgana to _us_.” As the banquet hall filled with whimpers and gasps, Arthur looked to Gwaine. “Where was he last spotted?”

“The courtyard,” Gwaine answered – and immediately regretted it, if the way his eyes widened was anything to go. “Wait, no, sire-”

“No!” Arthur shouted. “I’m _done_ turning a blind eye to his treachery. _It didn’t work._ ” With a deliberate grace, he pulled out his sword, making everyone around him take several steps back in fear. “He never once tried to explain himself to me.” With a sneer, he said, “Maybe he’ll have better luck explaining himself to my mother.”

And with that, he took off through the doors, immediately turning and heading to the court-yard.

Whether it was to his nephew in his life or to his sister in the next one, Agravaine would _finally_ have to answer to the House of Du Bois for his treacherous loyalty Uther’s daughter, to the dark child of Pendragon.

Arthur would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured my birthday was as good a day as any to kick this story off. :) Thank you all so much for coming along with me on this amazing journey. Buckle up for a wild final ride! ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might've noticed the question mark in the chapter count. I'm going to try having smaller, more frequent updates - possibly updating _by the scene_ as I finish them - rather than having a few large ones. But that means I don't really know how long this will be if I'm throwing my outline to the wind.

_“No!” Arthur shouted. “I’m done turning a blind eye to his treachery._ It didn’t work. _” With a deliberate grace, he pulled out his sword, making everyone around him take several steps back in fear. “He never once tried to explain himself to me.” With a sneer, he said, “Maybe he’ll have better luck explaining himself to my mother.”_

_And with that, he took off through the doors, immediately turning and heading to the court-yard._

_Whether it was to his nephew in his life or to his sister in the next one, Agravaine would finally have to answer to the House of Du Bois for his treacherous loyalty Uther’s daughter, to the dark child of Pendragon._

_Arthur would make sure of it._

“Gwaine!” he called over his shoulder. “Secure the armory. Percival, come with me.”

Merlin started toward them, but at the door, Arthur shook his head. “Take them to the inner chambers,” he ordered curtly.

As Arthur strode away, the last thing he heard from the banquet hall was Merlin shouting, “Everyone, follow me!” For once in his life, Merlin was obeying. 

Or at least, Arthur thought he’d obeyed.

Yet somehow, a few minutes and a dozen dispatched Southron soldiers later, he was not surprised to round a corner and run right into Merlin.

“Hiding in the broom cupboard as usual?” Arthur snarled, shoving past him-

-and straight into the line of sight of a mob of Southron soldiers.

“I’m certainly doing my usual,” Merlin muttered.

Except instead of ducking into a safe corner, Merlin pushed past Arthur. Already muttering in that arcane language that made Arthur’s heart skip every other beat, Merlin raised his arm. Hand outstretched, he finished his spell with a shout.

Right as the Southron soldiers charged at them.

Every sconce in the corridor all but exploded, their fires rising and billowing outward, filling the corridor with flames.

The Southrons yelped and retreated from the flames. The wall of fire obscured everything save their boots.

But for Arthur, their feet were enough to map out their positions. “How long can you hold this?” he asked, tip of his sword pointed at the flames.

“Not for long,” Merlin ground out. In the reflection of his blade, Arthur could see Merlin’s eyes glowing gold. “Not without suffocating us.”

“Make it as bright as possible, and don’t stop until I say.”

Merlin obliged, the wall of flames growing. Arthur could see what Merlin meant — already, he was starting to feel a little faint, the fire stealing all their air as the only fuel left.

Arthur shut his eyes, preserving his night vision. The corridor heated up, until his face felt so hot that the flames had to be bright enough to blind.

He raised his sword, shifted his weight toward his toes, and murmured, “Now, Merlin.”

The heat on his face vanished, and he opened his eyes. As the Southron soldiers fumbled and shouted in the sudden darkness, Arthur snapped forward.

He’d always taken great pride in his skills and strength. But outside of a battle, Arthur would admit he was quick to forget how efficient of a killer this made him. Once upon a foolish time, he was proud of how many lives he’d ended, and _could_ end with scant effort.

Now, he protected his castle with grim determination, his soul flinching at every splash of warm blood covering his sword and his gloved hands.

He hated how easy it was to kill all these soldiers.

But easy it was. In the heat of battle, he could not afford to let his desires get the best of him.

When the bodies lined the corridor, Arthur turned back. He squinted through the gloom to see Merlin tip-toeing his way over the bodies, trying not to step on any of them.

“Hurry up, Merlin,” he grumbled. The manservant looked up to presumably say something wholly inappropriate-

Merlin’s eyes went wide at something over Arthur’s shoulder. “Look out!”

Tracking the direction of Merlin’s gaze, Arthur already had his sword raised as he spun on the spot, his own blade clanging against another sword.

Right as the soldier’s other sword came at Arthur’s side.

For a brief moment, all Arthur could think was _who in the hell sharpened their swords?_

And then the pain overtook him.

As cold, sharp agony spread from his side, he heard more of Merlin’s muttering, and a hard _woosh_. He looked up in time to see the Southron soldier fly into the wall, hitting it and landing on the floor with several sickening cracks.

“…huh…” he mumbled, looking back at his manservant right as the magical golden glow faded from his eyes. “You might not be useless…after…all…”

“Please shut up,” Merlin muttered. “Y-you really need to save your breath.”

Did Arthur look that bad?

Merlin peeled Arthur’s arm off the wound and draped it over his shoulders. Arthur leaned against him as Merlin wrapped his arm behind Arthur’s waist, his hand exactly opposite the wound.

“Come on…” Merlin encouraged. “Back to the inner chamber…Gaius can help…”

“N-no,” Arthur insisted, stumbling again. He gestured down the corridor — and the courtyard it led to, where they could hear Agravaine’s shouting.

And the people screaming.

But Merlin managed to drag Arthur away, and it took all of Arthur’s effort just to maintain his grip on his sword.

“Arthur,” Merlin grunted. “I know you’re angry at him, but you are injured, and even if you weren’t, you’re outnumbered — and that’s before Morgana!”

Merlin said something else, but Arthur lost track of it. He had only the vaguest sense of Merlin talking, speech steady but voice getting tenser with every step they took.

Then he was being dropped onto a wooden bench, back pressed into a table edge. Merlin had managed to take Arthur all the way into the inner chamber without his noticing.

A pair of gentle, experienced hands moved aside the broken chainmail to prod around the wound, and Arthur squinted upward. Where did Gaius come from?

“I came here with Gwaine, and Merlin before he ran off,” the old man answered.

Oh.

Arthur must’ve asked that out loud.

“You did indeed, sire.”

The king of Camelot clamped his mouth shut before he could humiliate himself any further.

His head fell to the side, and he had the sensation of breaking through the surface of water after diving to the bottom of a pond.

One moment, he was drowning in nonsensical noise.

Then the next, he broke through his own dizziness and the world around him cleared into distinct sounds: guardsmen trying to find safe passage for the maidservants and scant few children, Merlin asking after the wounded, and the sounds of Gwaine and Percival’s shouting flew in through the open doorway.

He tried to sit up, only for his side to freeze as if he were getting stabbed all over again. He hadn’t even meant to bend over himself, clutching at the wound — yet huddled he was when Gwaine and Percival burst in.

Still, he had the presence of mind to mumble, “B’ric’d…”

That was enough for Merlin, who turned around and shouted on his behalf, “Barricade the doors!”

Percival held the doors closed, as Gwaine and the guards started shoving every free table, bench, and chair in front of them.

But in here, there was not much to be had, and Arthur knew even before Gwaine said it: “We only have a few minutes — they’ll break it down, soon enough.”

All around Arthur, he could see the maidservants and noblewomen holding each other up, releasing more furniture for the men to barricade with. He heard whimpers from all the injured, two children crying, and a guardsman muffling his screams as someone — hopefully — tried to treat his wounds.

In the corner, he could see a limp body of a guard, a door-man based on his uniform. A scrap of gray cloth covered his face, the only respect the dead could afford right now. Not too far away, Arthur could see the rips in a noblewoman’s gray cloak as its torn corner fluttered around her.

Arthur wondered if his nose would still be filled with the scent of blood, even if he weren’t covered in his own.

“Merl’n…”

When Merlin didn’t hear him, he reached out and twisted his fingers through the corner of Merlin’s hideous jacket. The manservant and sorcerer looked down at Arthur in confusion.

“…Barricade…the…doors…” Arthur ground out, enunciating every word as much as possible, unable to speak much louder than a whisper.

Merlin frowned. “We just did-”

“ _You._ ”

Realization dawned on Merlin’s face.

And Gaius’.

And Gwaine's; he turned to murmur to Percival, who stood too far away to hear Arthur.

“M’the king…” Arthur clenched the fist tangled in Merlin’s jacket. “No’ne can…kill you…without my say.”

His face as pale as when the Dorocha almost killed him, Merlin shook his head. “But your Court-”

“Is broken!” Arthur snapped, then hissed when it tore at his side. He fell forward, forehead pressed against Merlin’s sweaty waist. “Look ‘roun’ you, Merlin. We need ‘o survive for them…to protes’…my changes.”

Merlin swallowed, and nodded in agreement.

Despite Arthur’s expectation, Merlin didn’t step away. If anything he came closer, draping an arm over Arthur’s shoulders and holding him close, while turning to reach his hand up for the door.

_“Inc muthas, behaesath beonne anum wealldor!”_

As Merlin’s voice rose through the inner chamber, silence started to fall, a wave of confusion rippling through the terrified people of Camelot. Arthur took the deepest breath he could managed and sat back up, squaring his shoulders to stare down the confused guard that started to approach.

_“Anbrócan, mymerath treowgewrid hwanone eoth ancumen!”_

“This is my command,” Arthur said. Behind the guard, he could see several men’s jaws drop in shock.

(Percival, meanwhile, smiled, small and exhausted but his eyes full of pride. Arthur could not see Gwaine’s face, nor fathom what the man felt, now.)

_“Bebiergath usic! Bewariath usic! Fortheccath usic!”_

Arthur looked up to see Merlin’s eyes filled with gold, flickering brighter than the dying torches all around them. Behind, he could hear the horrified whispers from some nobles, while all around him, the rest of the castle staff stared in quiet shock.

The cracking sound that thundered from the pile of furniture in front of the doors filled this stunned silence. Arthur turned his head to see the tables and chairs…melting?

Wood flowed like molten metal, flowed _up_ towards the doors — which also seemed to melt, except into each other. As he watched, the two doors became one, as if they had been built that way; sloppily built and ugly, but sturdy nonetheless. The ‘melted’ furniture, meanwhile, seemed to plant itself right into the stone floor, as well as becoming part of the door.

The crackling faded. For a moment, they heard only the distant sounds of approaching invaders through the newly-reinforced door.

Arthur looked around, unsurprised to see the shock and confusion in all the gazes currently directed at Merlin-

Well, most of them. Strangely, a few guards were looking more anxiously at Arthur than at Merlin.

Gaius was back at Arthur’s side, hands fluttering over Arthur’s torn chainmail.

“I can bind the ribcage,” he said, unheeding of the stunned silence around them. “But then we run the risk of puncturing a lung.”

“Do whatever it takes,” Arthur ordered. “Just so long as I can swing a sword.”

“That won’t work, sire!” Gwaine snapped, steadfastly not looking at Merlin. “Do you see how much blood you’ve lost already?!”

“We must get you to safety while we still can,” Percival insisted.

Arthur glared at them both. “I am not abandoning my people — I’d rather die!”

“If you die, you’ll be abandoning us forever!” Gwaine shot back.

Arthur shook his head, grinding his teeth as he blindly grasped for Merlin’s arm.

But before he could leverage himself to his feet, Percival knelt in front of him, one hand wrapping over Arthur’s knee, the other hand over his own.

“Your Majesty, _please_.”

The royal address alone stunned Arthur in place, more than the hoarse, desperate plea that followed it.

Calm despite the approaching chaos, and voice deep in the still-shocked silence, Percival squeezed Arthur’s knee in a gentle reassurance. “You trusted us, even when we gave you good reason not to.” He tried to smile, couldn’t, and carried on. “ _We_ trust _you_ to return to us — or die trying.”

Arthur wanted to protest — they shouldn’t trust him with anything, he wouldn’t leave them all behind, he couldn’t abandon his people-

“Arthur.”

He looked up — at his sorcerer, his manservant, his _friend_ — and the breath in his lungs froze at the bare fear on Merlin’s face.

“I-” Merlin swallowed down the shaky voice, then started again. “I’m not that good at it, but I _can_ heal.”

“Then why don’t you do so now?” Arthur snapped.

“Because it’s not _that_ quick, you still need time to recover!” Merlin protested, looking very close to tears.

He would have protested further, but a sudden rise of shouting came through the doors — followed by the entire wooden monstrosity Merlin created rattling.

His wounded side throbbed in time with the Southrons’ overtures against the barricaded doors.

“…fine.”

The sound of a dozen different sighs of relief filled the inner chamber. Half the people let out breaths that no one seemed to have realized they’d been holding in the first place.

As Merlin hoisted him up to his feet and Percival directed all the women and children to follow them, Arthur tried not to take it personally.

But it was hard not to when even Gaius refused to go with them, saying he’d only slow them down. Merlin looked almost as torn up about leaving Gaius with Gwaine and the guards as Arthur felt about leaving at all. Despite that, he nodded and started dragging Arthur away.

“Look after our king, Merlin!” Gaius called after them.

“…some king I am…” Arthur muttered.

Merlin didn’t respond, and Arthur had no idea if that was because he hadn’t heard, or didn’t care.

Arthur got the sinking feeling that it didn’t really matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been indecisive about a lot of things in regards to my writing, so if you're able to comment, please let me know what you liked (quotes, themes, scenes, etc. - anything helps!). And more importantly, anything you disliked or think I could improve on/work on more. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. :)


End file.
